Control Slipping Through Like Sand in a Fist
by LoveLikeYou'reNotBroken
Summary: She can't be mad when she pretended not to notice the guys staring at her, worried out of their minds, knowing this would not be a simple reveal. She can't be mad when she flat out ignored the look of pure pity wash over Nell's face when she found the suspect's history with women. She went into it willingly, and she came out of it broken and alone.


_He's everywhere._

_His hands are roaming across her body, too rough to ever be considered pleasurable. Mouth connected to her neck, teeth promising to leave her reminders of this nightmare for days to come. _

_He pressed her against the wall, more like shoved, and didn't hesitate to shove a thigh between her shaking legs. _

_She hisses as his teeth sever deeper into her shoulder and represses the urge to empty the contents of her stomach as he misinterprets it for a moan._

_He tugs the strap of her (too tight) dress off of her left shoulder while his other hand crawls up her thigh. She thanks god he's not looking at her and won't notice how she pushes back tears as his hand slips her dress and feels her through her panties. _

_She wants to be mad, she wants to hate her job and hate her co-workers for allowing her to sink this low. She wants to hurt them until they're aware of how painful (traumatizing) this is to go through. _

_But she's not._

_She has no choice but to lean on the wall, trying to put distance between her and the lead suspect of their case, while still appearing to be clinging to him._

_She bites down on her lip and tries to think of anything besides the groan slipping through his lips as his fingers push her panties aside…._

"You okay, Kens?"

His voice breaks her out of her trance. Her eyes shoot up from her messy desk to meet his blue ones, concern pouring out of him.

It isn't until she opens her mouth to speak and releases her bottom lip from her teeth that she realizes she's not too far off from breaking the skin.

Her hands are in fists on her lap and her eyes are stinging. Nevertheless, she's Kensi Blye and Kensi Blye doesn't cry over her job, especially when what she did put the asshole behind bars.

_But at what cost…? _

"Kensi?" he calls again, louder this time, more sternly and with a hint of panic.

After realizing she's spaced out again she takes a deep breath and meets his eyes again. "I'm fine, Deeks." She forces herself to remain calm and not the tremor threatening to overtake her body show in her voice.

She doesn't try to fake a smile, or laugh off the fact that she's claiming to be 'fine' because _anyone_ could see how broken she is and that might kill her more than anything.

"Kensi…" he whispers, and she blocks out the worry and dare she say _pain_ that she hears in his voice.

She doesn't risk looking in his eyes again, knowing that one glance could have her falling apart and she (somehow) needs to be able to still drive home. She grabs her keys off her desk and shakily stands up before leaving the bullpen.

She's one step away from having him completely out of sight when he puts his hand on her shoulder.

She jerks away from the contact like it set her skin on fire. A terrified gasp leaves her mouth and in a split second she's back there. She's pressed up against the wall of an abandoned room, music pulsing through the walls from the dance floor not too far away, having every ounce of self-respect leave her body as self-loathing and self-disgust take over.

She blinks and she's back in the dark bullpen. She breathes through her nose and tries to remember where she is and what's going on.

_It's only a job, it's only a job, it's only a job… _

She's in the bullpen with Deeks, Sam and Callen went home a half hour ago after taking care of the lowlife, and she's safe now.

_Is she though?_

He's behind bars, but she has to live with the memory for the rest of her life. Her constant overthinking and reanalyzing the situation can only spiral her further out of control. She's always been her worst enemy.

And if the chills on her arm and the hostile reaction towards her partner have anything to say about it, she can be sure this isn't something she'll be getting over anytime soon.

Speaking of partner, when she's sure she can look at him without sobbing she meets his eyes again. The precious baby blue she loves so much is dulled by worry and concern with almost as much sorrow as are in hers.

She takes another deep breath, "I-" she starts but takes another quick gasp of oxygen as her lungs betray her. "I'm- I'm so sorry," she shakes her head slowly as if amazed that she could have reacted like that to him of all people. The tears well up until his face is blurred but she can still see, still _feel_, his concern.

"You don't have to apologize for anything, Kensi." He says softly, but the words are stern, wanting her to know he's there, that he's been there, that he'll _always_ be there.

She doesn't know if the fact that he's trying to be strong for the both of them or the fact that she letting it get to her this much hurts more.

Either way, she can literally feel her heart rip open and shatter in her chest.

Logically, she knows she's being an idiot. An emotional, overactive, _unprofessional_ idiot. This is her job, and as sad (disgusting) it may be, seducing lowlife criminals for information is at the top of her job description.

It isn't the first time she's gone further with a suspect than she would have liked because he wasn't willing to talk, and unfortunately it won't be the last. She knows she needs to treat it like any other case and go home, sleep it off, and pray it'll never be brought up again.

But logic doesn't stop the hurt, the pain, the _shame_ from flooding through her body.

It doesn't change the way he looked at her, and the utter _fear_ that coursed through her the second she realized the guys weren't coming in until he said what they needed to hear.

She wants to be mad at them, wants to scream and yell until they realize what they put her through, but she just can't. She can't be mad when she brought it on herself, when she willing took the case with a nod and a simple 'on it' and when she grabbed the miserable excuse for a dress out of the garment bag Hetty handed her and put it on without a second thought.

She can't be mad when she pretended not to notice the guys staring at her, worried out of their minds, knowing this would not be a simple reveal.

She can't be mad when she flat out ignored the look of pure pity wash over Nell's face when she found the suspect's history with women.

She went into it willingly, and she came out of it broken and alone.

Maybe she's been doing this too long.

She looks back at Deeks and tries to find reassurance that life can go on (_will_ go on) in the one person who brings her comfort when life around her is crumbling to pieces. But the sight just sets the smashed pieces of her heart into flames.

Through the haze of the room she can see tears pooling in his eyes, and she knows her partner well enough to know he is pushing them back with all his strength. His hands are twitching, wanting to reach out and engulf her in his arms, protect her from the world and never let go (and _god_ if she doesn't need that too) but her reaction a few moments before leaves him hesitant.

That just about sends her over the edge. The fact that her partner, the one man she's trusted more than anyone on this earth is too scared to comfort her, makes the tears spill over.

She hates herself for letting him see her like this, for making him worry, she hates herself for being so stupidly stubborn, for feeling the need to constantly prove herself.

Her hands latch onto his shirt when he pulls her into his arms tightly, her body shaking so violently that he's (not for the first time tonight) truly terrified for his girl.

The violent sobs wrack through her thin frame and she's not sure if she's sobbing or screaming at this point, but the combination doesn't seem to be slowing down anytime soon.

He lifts her into his arms effortlessly, holding her tight against his warm body, carrying her over to the couch. He settles her in his lap and places kisses in her hair, his arms never loosening their hold around her.

"It's okay, Kens. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. You're fine, honey, you're safe." His hushed words into her hair silence the screams but the tears keep flowing.

As oxygen becomes scarce she begins to choke on her own air, he rubs her back soothingly, and places another kiss on top of her head.

"I'd take it away from you if I could, princess," he whispers, squeezing her slightly, "If it were up to me, I'd never let anyone near you again."

His shirt is soaked, and the makeup she caked on her eyes is now stuck to her cheeks, the sickly combination of thick eyeliner, heavy mascara, and tears stain her pale skin.

She knows she must look hideous, and have scared him beyond words, but she can't bring herself to care, can't bring herself to apologize again, because there are just some things people don't deserve. Some consequences that shouldn't occur, despite the actions leading towards it.

She takes the steadiest breath she can manage and lets the strength of his arms and the warmth of his words cease the tears.

"I'm so sorry, Kensi." His lips mutter while still pressed to her forehead, her head still on his chest. "I'm so, so sorry." She thinks she feels a tear slip into her hair, but instead of turning to see, she twists her head to place small kiss under her jaw.

"It's not your fault," she whispers, because she knows damn well he's blaming himself right now. And if she has any chance of getting through this, she needs him to be the overly hyper, happy partner she relies on every day to bring a smile to her face.

His arms tighten again, but this time they don't loosen. "Doesn't matter, Kens. I'm your partner, it's my job to keep you safe, god knows what could have happened if we hadn't gone in when we did…" his voice trails off and she bites down on her battered lip to keep from screaming as his words echo what she's been trying so hard to ignore.

He pulls her even closer to his chest, leaving another kiss in her hair.

When she's sure she can speak, she answers in the saddest voice he's ever heard. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't the only girl on the team. That I wasn't always the 'go to girl' for sleeping with bad guys to get answers." She pauses, letting the air go in and out through her nose steadily twice before finishing, "but at the same time, I don't. Because no matter how disgusted I am, and no matter how much it hurts, I would never wish that- that pain, that _feeling_, on another woman."

His head rests on top of hers and she lets a few more silent tears fall from her swollen eyes before continuing. "I would suffer through that a million times before I _ever_ let another woman go through that." Her eyes close and she lets his embrace remind her that it's over now, and he's not letting her go down with fighting her to _stay_.

Stay where exactly, she's not entirely sure, but if it's in Deeks' comforting arms, she might fight just as hard.

"Do you have idea how amazing you are, Miss Blye?" he whispers, his lips at her hair line. The awe in his voice undeniable.

"I don't feel amazing." She huffs, letting a small pout fall on her lips. "I've worked my ass off for years trying to prove that I am just as good of an agent as Callen and Sam but no matter what I do, they just look at me as the distraction. Why value me as an agent when I can just be the whore that gets them where they need to go next?"

He shakes her lightly, his head leaves hers, and his hand reaches to cup her cheek, turning her face so he can look into her mismatched eyes. "Hey, don't talk like that." He says seriously, his hand still cradling her face. "You are an unbelievable agent, and trust me when I tell you, everyone knows it. Do you have any idea what the guys at LAPD say about you? They worship the ground you walk on."

"Deeks, you just made that up." She responds incredulously, a small smile slipping through none the less, "Most of LAPD has no idea who I am."

"Not true, they-" he protests until she raises her eyebrows and he rolls his eyes. "Alright fine, I made that up, but it doesn't mean you're not amazing Badass Blye." He smiles, and just like every other time it's enough for her to see a small light at the end of the impossibly dark tunnel.

She gives a small smile back and he considers it a small victory, but when she leans up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, he feels like he's won the freaking lottery.

"Thank you," she whispers against his cheek, before resting her head back on his chest. His lips find their way back to her forehead and no matter how many times she feels it, it'll never not calm her.

"Anytime, sweetheart." He whispers before she feels him smile against her skin. "I really wouldn't worry about what Callen and Sam think though, I've seen you kick both their asses without breaking a sweat." He chuckles lightly, the vibration on his chest moving throughout her and for the first time all day she feels the last ounce of sorrow leave her body.

Yeah, sometimes her job sucks. And yeah, tonight was one of the worst things she'd ever experience. And it's guaranteed she'll have horrifying nightmares the whole night.

But that's okay, because each time a flashback interrupted her sleep, he was there to gently shake her awake and pull her into his arms and let her know he wasn't going anywhere. And he wasn't letting anyone touch her again.

And for the first time in her entire life, she felt one hundred percent safe and protected without an ounce of control.

And dare she say, she _liked_ it.

**. . . **

**A/N: Wow, alright this is my second NCIS: LA fanfic and apparently I really like making life suck for Kensi...**

**Despite that, I would really love if you guys could review! I'm still not sure if I'm getting the characters right and some feedback would be amazing.**


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